


Poets Come to Life

by pavloverly



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Peterick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pavloverly/pseuds/pavloverly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick’s eyes met Pete’s, and it took every ounce of Pete’s self-control to defy the absolute need of dragging Patrick inside and slamming him against the door, claiming those lips as his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poets Come to Life

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like if there was a different author, this could have been written better

Pete is astonished to see the peroxide bleached man stand before him in a tight fitting suit. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find any words, when after two years of being alone, his anchor was finally standing in front of him. It was a lot to take in, the slender form of Patrick’s new body. _His_ Patrick had come back to him, after everything he'd done to him.  
Patrick gave Pete a sheepish smile, not meeting his eyes, and shuffled his feet, blushing, as Pete was taking in everything about this man that stood before him. The protruding skin where Patrick’s cheekbones were well-defined by the porch light, the soft curve of his lips, the redness in his flushed cheeks. 

Patrick’s eyes met Pete’s, and it took every ounce of Pete’s self-control to defy the absolute need of dragging Patrick inside and slamming him against the door, claiming those lips as his.  
Instead, the darker-haired man put two hands on Patrick’s shoulders and gently guided Patrick into his embrace. 

He smelt like home to Pete. Wherever Patrick went, Pete was sure that was where he belonged. It was almost bittersweet, and he felt all of the tension drain out of his body. This still felt so surreal. After _years_ of keeping to himself, doing his best to avoid Patrick, the angel himself shows up on Pete’s doorstep.

He couldn’t bring himself to care less why Patrick was here, all he could do was fist a hand in the bleached hair and try to fuse souls with Patrick, so they could never leave each other again. Why would they want to? 

Only then did Pete realise that Patrick’s small body was shaking, so he removed his arms from the lithe frame of his best friend, and lightly pushed at his chest so he could see Patrick’s face.  
Tear tracks were making wet stains on the flushed face, and Pete cupped his jaw and used his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears. He then placed kisses on Patrick’s forehead, his drying tear stains and nose, then peppered kisses around Patrick’s mouth. Maybe it was a little too intimate, but he’d done worse. 

Planning on asking Patrick about his sudden arrival suddenly seemed so unnecessary, and Pete just wanted to wrap himself around the blonde and never let go. Eventually reality would catch up. 

Patrick starts crying again, and Pete shushes him, letting the man fall into an embrace. He rubs Patrick’s back soothingly, trying to calm him. 

“Hey, don’t be like that, ‘Trick,” he coos into Patrick’s ear. He gets a whimper in response. He smiles adoringly, and kisses Patrick’s temple, “We’re _PeteandPatrick_ again,”

Pete didn’t even realise he was crying himself until he tasted salt at his open mouth. He buried his head into Patrick’s neck. He opened his mouth and whispered words into the sweet skin of Patrick’s neck, “I missed you so much,” he barely gets that out of his mouth before the tears are flowing freely. “G-god, I missed y-you so _so_ much,” He readjusted his grip on Patrick’s torso, chest heaving unevenly with emotion he’d been too afraid to vent. 

The younger man pet Pete’s hair, sifting his fingers through the short near-black locks. “Me too, Pete. I could never stop thinking about you. I don’t know why everything happened when it did.” He hums a sweet melody, rocking Pete in his arms side to side with a firm yet gentle hand splayed across his back. 

Pete almost fell asleep, but he couldn’t knowing that he hadn’t said what needed to be said, before Patrick slipped away from his grasp again. “I love you so much, ‘Trick. So fucking much.”

“Me too, Pete.” He was whispering into Pete’s ear. “But I need you to stay strong for me, please. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“You’ll never lose me. I’ve always been yours.” 

“And I, you. Take care of yourself.” He tilts Pete’s chin up and presses his heavenly soft lips against Pete’s slightly chapped ones, before breaking away and leaving Pete wanting more. 

Pete’s vision starts fading. 

“I love you,” He whispers, although he’s not sure if Patrick heard.

Pete abruptly awakens to find himself in bed, shirtless and with bed sheets draped over his hips. The clock read 1:14am. Pete managed to get an hour of sleep. He rubbed at his face and decided he needed to shave sometime, then proceeded to drag himself out of bed. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this. No matter how long he wanted to evade the truth, it sat like a ten tonne rock in his stomach, and his heart was heavy. He never left the house anymore, and he didn’t have the motivation to live anymore.

He had never gotten to apologise. 

As much as Pete tried avoiding this fact, he couldn’t shake it off or forget what had happened. He had heard from Joe first, and as soon as the words left his friend’s lips, the phone dropped from his hand to the floor, and Pete collapsed to his knees.

Andy, Joe, Gabe, William, Travie and all of Pete’s other friends had swung by the apartment to give Pete a hug and all their condolences. 

As much as he tried to avoid everything, Patrick had been killed in a car crash in 2011, three years ago. Since then, his life had gone by in a blur. He would go days without eating. He was never quite the same. Pete’s heart had been trampled, and all traces of the Pete he used to be been blown away. 

As soon as he got to the kitchen, his throat closed up and he slid to the floor, curling in on himself. He had never gotten to say sorry for all the things he had said to Patrick, and had done to 'Trick, _his ‘Trick_ , and it was too late. It was always too late.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated !! do u like angst? let me know, i have heaps of prompts


End file.
